"The Alamo" is to historical epics what "The Black Hole" was to science fiction films. It screams "made for TV" louder than most game shows. I actually became disoriented when it wasn't interrupted every seven minutes by deodorant commercials.

I don't know what kind of joke director Luke Greenfield thinks he's playing on the world, but if he's trying to stupefy us into submission by showcasing his total incompetence as a director, he may be well on his way to world domination.

For me, the scariest thing about being in that theater was watching the teenager in front of me who, after various genetic mutants took axes to the face or head, pumped his fist in some kind of kindred ritualistic triumph.

Let's just put it this way: The person highest above-the-line in this film is none other than Clint Howard. Clint Howard! Ron's little brother. Balok from the original "Star Trek"! THE WORST ACTOR ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH!

Every day when I wake up in the morning and I see the sun shining so beautifully and so brightly in the sky, I begin singing to myself "Hakuna Matata" and I know that my day will go well and somehow I'll find a way to make the world a better place and I owe it all to this film.